


Little Things That Always Feel Better When Shared

by isadub



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, sweet little things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isadub/pseuds/isadub
Summary: When Fox Mulder ponders the little things that had always felt better when shared with Scully.Chapter 1: PrologueChapter 2: SlidesChapter 3: SeedsChapter 4: ToothbrushChapter 5: Nine MinutesChapter 6: UmbrellaChapter 7: Moonlight
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 32
Kudos: 59





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The idea was triggered by a tweet from Cathy about Mulder's slide shows. Thanks Cathy!

_ Spring 2016 - Unremarkable House _

Fox Mulder was sitting on his porch doing nothing but watching the sunset. Letting the last glorious rays wrap his body into its weakening brightness and trigger his brain to meditate on his life.

His inner soul was feeling so much better and his relationship with Scully was getting so much better that he didn’t sense anymore the patches of darkness sneaking around the house when days were dying. 

On the contrary, as light and heat were fading away, light-hearted and warm memories were popping in his mind like a joyful jack-in-the-box. 

Memories about little things that always feel better when shared. 

When shared with Scully.


	2. Slides

This evening, the sky was amazingly beautiful. All the sunsets he had admired sitting on the porch of the unremarkable house were pleasurable, each having some peculiarity that would distinguish it from the others.

This evening, the sun, the clouds and the colors were composing an ephemeral chef-d’oeuvre that Mulder couldn’t not immortalize. He then picked up his phone and took several photos of the natural painting that wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.

When the gorgeous moment was gone, Mulder scrolled his screen, displaying for himself a mobile sunset slideshow.

Sliding his thumb. Photos sliding in front of his eyes. While the light and heat were fading away.

And then he was gone decades ago in the basement office, the day Special Agent Dana Scully had been sent to him to debunk his work in the X Files.

The day he had discovered that displaying a slideshow was much better when shared. Shared with Scully.

Mulder had always enjoyed slides. These tiny pieces made of plastic and photographic film whose details would be truly revealed when projected on a big white screen. 

Even if he had had a few occasions to use slideshows when he was working in the Violent Crimes Unit or with Diana Fowley, he really dove into the routine of creating them when he had remained alone in the basement. For the cases he was investigating but also for no reason at all, just his own entertainment. It became a slight addiction, an allowed self-centered pleasure he could easily indulge in the office --not like the other one involving offensive tapes he had to inhibit during work hours. 

Obviously, his slide shows helped him to grasp the cases he was on, to find new details and unexpected connections between facts, and to imprint his eidetic memory for good. He could even switch slides, reverse them, mix a few from different files to make him improve his hunches and deductions. 

But he could also create a monster or an UFO slideshow just for the fun of it, and let the carrousel automatically display his own Ed Wood film whenever he needed a distraction.

One day his world had spinned over its axe and Special Agent Dana Scully had knocked at his door. At that time he was a professional slideshow editor, and he had of course prepared a special one in order to display his skills in front of his new partner. 

Sure, this day he had intended to make the show. To show off with a slide show.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the effect it would have on a viewer. A very special viewer. Special Agent Dana Scully. 

What he hadn’t anticipated was, once the lights were off, how the huge and crude slides on the big screen had triggered Scully’s reaction, how she had come closer to scrutinize them, how the lights had played on her face, how she had challenged him with her scientific point of view upon the world, how her eyes had brightened, and how she had smiled at him.

This day, he had discovered that displaying a slideshow would ever feel better when shared. When shared with Scully. 

Coming back to present time, Mulder was displaying a big smile, brought out by the sweet memories of that magical day. The sun was now completely out of sight, but was still remaining in its wondrous glory on the last photo he had scrolled through. 

There was only one thing he was bound to do, and that was to send Scully this photo, and maybe also the other ones, so she could admire the beautiful sunset he had witnessed, so he could share with her his little mobile sunset slideshow. 

Because little things always feel better when shared. When shared with Scully.


	3. Seeds

Today had been a cloudy and rainy day and the sunset wasn’t much prettier. Yet, Mulder was sitting on his porch doing nothing but watching that second-rate sunset, wrapped into a warm coat. 

There wasn’t much to admire in the sky so his right hand followed a well-known path on its own, plunging into the right pocket of his coat. There, his fingers found remnants from a bag of sunflower seeds that had settled there for weeks. The bag had already disappeared in the trash can but there were always a few gems remaining, waiting to be discovered. 

The first catch wasn’t successful. Only shells that Mulder threw away as far as possible from the porch in the wet grass. The second was a good one and two saved sunflower seeds ended up in his mouth. 

They would be kept in there for a while, visiting all the secret places where his tongue would carry them, being rolled and sucked then gradually losing their salty coating. Later, they would crack and die under Mulder’s teeth, their inner core being crushed and swallowed and the shells being expelled into the air. 

Meanwhile, thoughts and memories were cracking and rolling into Mulder’s mind, matching the action happening in his mouth. 

As far as he could remember he had always eaten sunflower seeds, a habit inherited from his father, the one he had lived with. A way to calm down his anxieties and lessen his loneliness or boredom, a means to make him focus on his work or to avoid diving into alternative unhealthy addictions. And surely many more little reasons that had come along his life as a regular sunflower seeds eater.

And, one day, he had realized that this little unmeaningful peculiar habit always felt better when shared with Scully.

At first in their partnership he had doubted he could keep eating his seeds when working with her, whether it would be in the basement, a rental car, or on the field. He knew it could be upsetting to sense someone close to you chewing, making noises, and expelling wet stuff from his mouth. He knew he was completely messy and sloppy, letting remnants of seeds everywhere. 

Scully had never complained. 

On the contrary, one day she had anticipated that he would be soon in need of sunflower seeds and that he hadn't had or wouldn’t have time to supply it. This evening, she had entered his motel room, bringing him the results of the autopsy she had performed earlier, and suddenly had picked out from the huge pockets of her raincoat two bags of his brand of sunflower seeds. 

Since this moment, he became aware that she didn’t dislike witnessing him eating seeds, and even that she might like it. That thought made him feel better and happier, knowing he was indirectly sharing with her his little messy and sloppy habit.

Years later, his pleasure had really increased when he had noticed that Scully would seek residues --or at least faint flavors-- of the seeds he had eaten a moment before indulging themselves in a deep kiss. Or, that she would fantasize about the movements happening within his mouth, longing for the next occasion he would be able to practice his oral skills on specific parts of her body.

On these last thoughts, Mulder expelled the shells from his mouth and put his left hand on his groin, softly stroking his little-not-so-little thing that had been slightly awakened. 

Yet, he didn’t want to completely arouse his little-not-so-little thing, because right now it would feel better in another hand than his own. And himself would feel happier if he could share his little arousal with Scully.

Furthermore, he could tell that his little-not-so-little thing was always feeling better when it was allowed to expel its own little bag of seeds into a warmer and cozier place than the fruitless hand, or tissue, or shower, it was now too used to frequent. 

When thinking of it, among all the myriad of sensations Mulder had experienced when making love to Scully, there was this little thing that could appear pointless, or gross, or trite, but never had to him. Leaving inside Scully’s inner core parts of himself for a little while, was a sensation he had never despised or ignored. The idea of leaving millions of hopeful and restless microscopic aliens carrying his genetic trademark, believing against the odds they could accomplish a miracle, was somehow appealing and matched his character. 

He was bound to always feel better when he could share little or big things with Scully, and his infinitesimal spermatozoa were bound to reach nirvana if they could share their DNA material with one Scully’s egg-mate. 

And, once and against the odds, his little seeds had accomplished a true miracle. 

William.

Mulder had recently said to Scully that he had tried to put William behind him. But that wasn’t the truth. And there were no reasons now to lie to himself and to Scully about that. There were no reasons now not to share with Scully his deepest pains or his memorable moments of happiness. 

So he picked up his phone and called Scully.

“Mulder?”

“Scully.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. I was just sitting and thinking.”

“Healthy thoughts?”

“Yes. Scully, I want to share with you the happiest moment in my life, the one I remember every day, that I will never ever forget, and that I will cherish till my end.”

“I’m listening, Mulder.”

“That was when we held together our little baby William in our arms and we kissed in your bedroom. When we shared this blissful feeling that we were just the three of us in the universe, wrapped into the purest love that had ever occurred on Earth, and believing that these minutes would last an eternity.”

Scully remained silent for a while, taking in Mulder’s words. Waiting for a response that would come eventually, Mulder had instinctively sought for ultimate seeds hidden in his pocket. There was one to be found and he put it in his mouth. 

“For me too, Mulder, it’s the happiest moment,” Scully finally answered. “That’s a healthy and happy thought, even if painful.”

Then, after a beat, “Have you sunflower seeds in your mouth? I can hear you.”

“Yeah. I think it’s the last one coming from the bag you bought me.”

“I can buy you a new one tomorrow morning on my way to the office, if you want.”

“That would be nice of you. Thanks.”

“Mulder, thanks for the call. See you tomorrow morning?”

“See you. Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

Mulder ended the call then cracked the seed in his mouth. 

Eating sunflower seeds was indeed always making him feel better when shared. 

Shared with Scully. 


	4. Toothbrush

Mulder was in his bathroom, wearing a half-buttoned shiny black shirt on black jeans --all brand new for the occasion-- facing the mirror and about to brush his teeth. 

Scully had invited him tonight. She wanted him to accompany her to a social gathering downtown he didn’t even remember what it was about. When she had casually asked him out in the office a few days ago -- _ was it even a date? _ he wondered-- Mulder had been so stunned that of all the details she had launched to him, the day and the hour were the only things he had remembered.

Scully would soon pick him up and he would let her lead him wherever, and make him do whatever she would want him to do. 

He just knew that he would spend the evening with her, and evenings are always better when shared. When shared with Scully.

Mulder stretched his arm to reach the toothbrush holder, and made a pause, holding his hand a few inches over the brush.

A few years ago, there were two items in the holder, always ending with their bristles entwined, how matter they would be dropped in the glass. A day-to-day X File in the bathroom that made them often smile. Now, the little toothbrush felt lonely and miserable, maybe because it had done its time and should be replaced, but surely because it would have felt better if it were sharing its nest with another of its kind. Scully’s one.

Mulder took the brush and put some toothpaste on. Then, from the colors of the rays coming through the window, he realized that the sun was setting. Not wanting to miss what had become a new habit, he moved downstairs then stepped outside on the porch, while brushing his teeth.

Fox Mulder was now standing on his porch, doing nothing but watching the sunset and mindlessly moving his right hand. 

And, doing so, he travelled through time in his mind and came back to his childhood, at a time he was fairly happy, at a time he could share little things with someone he cherished. When he and Samantha could brush their teeth side by side.

The two of them had done many silly things while brushing their teeth, but there was one particular thing that was standing out right now. The day, or rather the evening, when he had wanted to disgust Samantha just for the sake of it. When he had swallowed all the toothpaste he had in his mouth --and that was a lot, as he had anticipated the prank when squeezing the tube. To his great pleasure it had worked as planned, and he had asked: ‘Do you think I’m yucky?’. Samantha had been half-shocked half-amused, then had launched: ‘You’re just a gross Fox!’. 

Afterwards, it had become a little game between them, happy moments that unfortunately ended too early with Samantha’s disappearance. A little game among a lot of other little things he hadn’t been able to share anymore with his sister, and that had made him feel sad and heartbroken for years --and, for some, the feeling would last forever.

As the sun facing him on the porch was about to disappear, he heard a noise he had learned to recognize these last months. Scully’s car. 

At this moment, he realized there were two little things he wouldn’t want to miss. Two little things that would make him feel happy and lighthearted, the last glorious rays of the sun and Scully’s arrival at their once shared house --the conjunction of the two events promising a heavenly vision of aflame hair and skin. 

So he stayed on the porch, standing and waiting for Scully, swallowed the whole toothpaste still filling his mouth and wiped his face with the back of his left hand. 

As anticipated, Scully’s arrival was beautiful and made his heart beat a little faster.

“Hi, handsome,” Scully said when stepping up on the porch. 

“Hi, my goddess Sekhmet. You’re wearing the Sun on your head so beautifully tonight,” Mulder replied. 

Scully smiled and, as she was reaching him, she raised her left hand towards his face.

“Always icky, as I can see,” she said while thumbing the right corner of his mouth where spots of foam had remained.

“Well,” Mulder grinned. “I might return to the bathroom then complete my dressing.”

Mulder quickly moved upstairs, properly finished his tooth brushing then entered his bedroom. 

Meanwhile, Scully had quietly and cautiously followed him on the upper floor. That was always an overwhelming path for her to step on, but she was trying to gradually immunize her feelings and to appropriate each part of the house again. Especially upstairs.

In the bedroom Mulder was uncertain about the clothes he should wear. He should have asked Scully what was the dress code --if there were one-- but now it seemed too late. Remembering how she was dressed --a not-so-chic casual-- he dismissed the tie but wanted to wear an appropriate nice jacket.

He left the bedroom and called from the hallway: “Scully, would you mind giving me a jacket tip?”

“Sure,” Scully replied from the bathroom. 

Mulder moved forward. The door of the bathroom was ajar and, thinking that Scully was readjusting her make-up, he poked his head in. Scanning the room, he found her sitting on the toilet.

“Wow, Scully! You have to warn me!” he said while pulling back his head. 

“Come on, Mulder. As if you never saw me sitting here,” Scully replied.

Mulder realized that it was indeed one of the little intimate things they had shared when they were a couple. Years ago. Right now, it didn’t seem right. 

Scully flushed the toilet and moved toward the sink.

“You can come in!” she yelled to Mulder who was waiting outside.

He stepped in, his two jackets hanging over his left arm, and came close to Scully who was washing her hands. He noticed that she seemed to explore her teeth with her tongue.

“Mulder, would you have a spare toothbrush for me?” Scully asked.

“Sure. Same place,” he replied.

Scully then opened the drawer on her right and found a packaged toothbrush. She picked it up and took the little brush out of the package.

Mulder was watching Scully in awe. 

His little toothbrush wouldn’t feel alone and miserable anymore in its nest. 

For he was certain that, in a few minutes, Scully would drop down the toothbrush she was now using in the holder, leaving there the item for another occasion she would need it. 

It could be in two weeks or two months, it didn’t matter right now.

Because his little toothbrush would feel better sharing his glass and entwining its bristles with its other kind. 

Because soon Mulder would feel better brushing his teeth side by side with Scully in their shared bathroom. 

Because that was Mulder’s hope and he believed it would happen. Eventually. 


	5. Nine Minutes

Fox Mulder was sitting on his porch, watching the sun setting. Admiring, sitting and thinking.

How long would the clouds in the sky be wrapped up in this flamboyant orange? How long would it take for the sun to completely disappear when its bottom would have touched down the horizon? How many minutes to wait then for the first star to appear clearly in the sky? 

He could think of a few questions and he could ask Scully them. She surely would have answers to give him. 

But the moment was so precious that it would be a waste of time. And Fox Mulder didn’t want to waste minutes anymore. 

Suspended little minutes were little things, still they were precious. You could be abducted by their insignificance and lose your thoughts in their silent ticking, then come back on Earth as if you had spent a lifetime of still blissfulness.

Mulder had now a way to designate these little minutes of greatness.  _ Nine minutes _ .

All had begun in Bellefleur, Oregon. Nine minutes lost against the laws of physics, against universal invariants. Nine minutes lost for both of them, little minutes disappearing into the mysteries of the universe. Yet, nine minutes of emptiness experienced together, nine minutes of unbelievable awe cementing their relationship forever.

Since then, he had progressively been aware of these both insignificant and meaningful minutes. 

At first, he even had tried to quantify them, keeping a lazy eye on his watch. Because he was inclined to believe that these little moments were always lasting nine minutes.

Until he realized that time was never elapsing the same way, that as universal as time was, the length of a minute was highly subjective. So, that all these precious minutes were always meant to be nine minutes in his heart and memory.

Nine little minutes lost within a long lifetime, nine minutes that had always felt better when shared. Shared with Scully.

Some of them were unexpected felicity. He could remember the first nine minutes of his resurrection in a hospital bed long after his abduction. Scully’s hands clenching his hand and shoulder, her head weighing his chest, the smell of her hair invading his nostrils. How grateful he had been to have swapped Hell for Heaven, to have floated for a moment in a suspended state of blessedness, Scully flying by his side. 

Of course there had been bittersweet nine minutes, but he wouldn’t erase them from his memories. They were important to keep and cherish. He recalled the long minutes he and Scully had spent in the tightest embrace, weeping all the tears they both had stored in each of their cells, drowning their melted bodies. Nine minutes of never-ending heartbreak, William quietly sleeping in his crib by their side. Yet, nine minutes of comfort, as he was wrapping her entire tiny body in his and absorbing her whole essence with all his senses. A shared memory he had kept as a treasure when he had been alone, so far away from them. 

Undoubtedly, he had also stored lots and lots of nine minutes that were plain joyful memories. 

And, these last days, there had been many of them. So many that Mulder wondered whether he would have enough drawers in his mind to keep them safe. 

The previous day had given him a few remarkable nine minutes moments. And if he had to select one, it would be the serene afterglow that had followed their shared ecstasy. Slowing down their heartbeat, catching their breath and settling into each other’s embrace, they had remained quiet, gratefully welcoming the renewal of their intimate relationship. Nine minutes bringing him mere hope, although they were still standing on indefinite grounds, still crossing precarious bridges between them and still wondering whether their next cautious steps would once again precipitate them in the abyss. 

The sun had now disappeared, taking away the flamboyant colors beyond the horizon. 

Mulder suddenly felt Scully’s fingers slightly squeezing his.

“That was gorgeous, Mulder,” Scully said.

“Mmm…” he replied.

“I don’t even know how long we just stared at the sky,” she added.

“ _ Nine minutes _ , Scully.”

“Really?”

Mulder didn’t explain to Scully that it didn’t matter if it was nine minutes, or five, or fifteen, or one hour --he would, later. What was important was that Scully had been sitting on the porch of their once shared house, by his side. That they had both lost the sense of time passing, admiring the sun setting, holding hands and doing nothing else. 

Nine little shared minutes of greatness in this world of uncertainty.


	6. Umbrella

Fox Mulder was standing on his porch, scrutinizing the sky. For once, he wouldn’t sit and think, watching the sun setting. All he could see were dark clouds, already spilling small droplets on the yard. 

Lowering his sight, he thought of watching the end of the alley for a while, of watching for Scully’s arrival. They were hanging out tonight --new habits settling step by step-- and he was already impatient to see her, to feel her by his side, and to share a lovely moment in a casual place.

But it was way too early for her arrival and meanwhile he would have to tame his restlessness. 

Seeing glimpses of the gate at the end of the alley, he pictured the hidden mailbox close by. For how long hadn’t the content of the box been checked? Not that he was waiting for something interesting in it. Yet, it would be a pleasurable distraction, quietly walking there, checking the mailbox, opening the gate, observing the road, then strolling back to the house. All the way letting his thoughts follow the gentle pace of his legs.

Having made his mind, Mulder climbed down the few stairs of the porch and stepped into the wet grass. After a few paces, he thought better than becoming soaked by the rain that was now getting bolder, as to discourage his resolution. The clouds were maybe believing that they could play with him or try his will. If so, how ignorant they were of his magic shield against sudden pours.

He turned around and quickly came back to the entrance door. From there, without really stepping into the house and thanks to his long limbs, he managed to pick up one of the umbrellas from the holder. Fate would say whether he had chosen a not so damaged one. 

Resuming his stroll under the frail shelter made of waterproof fabric, Mulder laughed at the clouds that had once again increased the release of their waters. And then, harassed by the drops hitting hard the tissue, he let his thoughts follow the rhythm of his tranquil footsteps. 

The zealous drips reminded him of unexpected toads falling from the sky without opening their parachutes. How good had he been at these times, remaining stone-faced in front of Scully in such odd situations, quietly bantering about witcheries or spooky events. 

Somehow, holding the handle of his umbrella and standing by Scully’s side --as close as could allow their two canopies bumping into each other-- had been such a comfort place, such a way to build their own shelter amidst weirdness or stranger cops, that he could have faced all the storms surrounding them without batting an eye. 

When Mulder was younger --working in the Violent Crimes Unit or being in charge of the X-Files on his own-- he was sparsely using umbrellas. Then, Scully had rejoined him in the basement and --like a lot of things that had changed in his life since this event-- Mulder became more acquainted with the handling of this object. After their first soaking experiences due to severe downfalls in the middle of the country, Scully had indeed soon brought and put umbrellas in their cars --rental or not. She then became the one among the two of them who would be in charge of this accessory --in charge of these little extras that were really much-needed, as it always seemed that the weather would play with them when they were on the field, their feet stuck in muddy soils. 

And this is how even more enjoyable moments had followed. 

For gradually, by chance, because of circumstances, due to laziness or omission, as a consequence of conscious and unconscious actions, or simply on purpose, they happened to share one single umbrella --for a minute, a little walk, an hour or whatever length of time that always was labeled as  _ nine minutes _ for Mulder. 

Sharing an umbrella could appear to be a mere little thing, an insignificant happenstance in a mundane life that frequently brought them outdoors, or, even, an uncomfortable little thing when they were surrounded by fierceful elements. 

But, for Mulder, strolling under a simple umbrella had always felt better when shared. 

Shared with Scully. 

He wouldn’t even know how to start describing the sensations he was feeling when they were sharing an umbrella. Of course, it was --it had been-- all depending on the whens, hows, whys.

Would it be in the early stage of their relationship? Mulder would have been still astonished to catch a whiff of Scully’s hair, his nose hovering over her head. Would it be when they were about to indulge in the love they could no longer deny? The thoughts of ineluctable intimacy triggered by their closeness would have made him shiver, bend down his head even more and get his body closer than ever to hers. And there had been all the in-betweens, all the afters, and there would be all the future ones. 

Lost in the sweet remembrances of the different moments he and Scully had shared under an umbrella --some melting with other ones-- Mulder arrived at the gate. 

He pushed the gate wide open, checked his mailbox --discovering a couple of uninteresting letters waiting for a few days-- then walked back and forth on the side of the road; he couldn’t make up his mind to already turn back home. The clouds hadn’t lessened their flows, and Mulder’s pants and shoes --sticking and soaked through-- had begun to complain in their own ways. Mulder didn’t let them outfox his good mood, flooded by warm memories of the past. 

Finally, having exhausted the relative charm of the quiet road, Mulder turned back. 

He had walked forwards a few meters into his yard when the clouds made another assault upon him, hitting him and its umbrella harder, and now helped by a gust of wind that made the umbrella ribs whine alarmingly. This desperate offensive failed to discourage Mulder’s good spirit and to cover a familiar sound growing in his back --a sound Mulder would sense over any deflagration. 

As Mulder stopped walking and turned around with a big smile on his face, the front of Scully’s car was passing through the open gate. 

Mulder waved to Scully, and, with a few mute gestures, he invited her to continue her way toward the house; he wouldn’t get in her car if she came to a halt to pick him up. Scully might have understood his message as she slowly overtook him. Watching her passing by, a blurry silhouette behind the foggy windows, Mulder was already enjoying the next few minutes of anticipation to come; he would languidly walk along the long path and then, as a reward, join her on the dry porch. 

Yet, it didn’t happen the way he thought.

All occurred quickly. The car halted, Scully jumping out of it, then running to Mulder. In less than a few seconds, Scully was under Mulder’s umbrella, her body clinging to his, her left arms gripping his waist. 

“Wow, Scully,” Mulder said. “I’m soaked and you’ll be soaked in a wink if you stay with me. Get back to your car!” 

“I’m fine. I want to walk with you,” Scully replied.

“You sure? Because the weather is very tricky and naughty today.”

“Try me!” Scully shouted out loud to the sky.

On this bravado, Mulder and Scully stepped forward, walking smoothly towards the unremarkable house. For a little while, they remained untroubled by the surprisingly quieter clouds --these last were indeed plotting their next move against the two defiant humans. 

Then, facing a sudden violent attack of whirlwind and hail, the already weakened umbrella broke its right side, while Mulder and Scully stopped, fiercely trying to clutch each other. Scully was holding Mulder’s body as tightly as she could, whereas Mulder, his two hands gripping the letters and the umbrella handling, was struggling using his arms to efficiently wrap Scully and protect her against the elements. 

“Scully, I warned you!” Mulder cried over the noise.

But Scully was laughing into Mulder’s chest, laughing so hard that it seemed nothing would stop her.

“Scully?” Mulder asked softly into her ear.

As an answer, Scully grabbed Mulder’s head with her two hands, lowered it and kissed his lips.

“Fuck the weather, Mulder,” she said on his mouth.

And then, they stayed for a while under the spoiled umbrella, hugging, caressing, whispering and kissing, until the clouds gave up annoying them. 

This is how Mulder felt better under a shared umbrella --shared with Scully. 

This is how he felt so blessed to be soaked and wet --unable now to differentiate the origin of the moist on his face. To be both cold and warm --so hot inside, his feet freezing. To be filled by sounds and whispers --her sweet words, the tap-tap of raindrops, the whistles of the wind. To be invaded by so many melted odors --the soil, the grass, the earth, the air, the rain, her hair, their saliva, their tears, their skin, their sweat, their perfume... he could go on endlessly. 

  
Mulder had never felt better and he would have another  _ nine minutes _ moment to add to his list, another shared umbrella memory to keep safe, and he would have to thank forever the Gods of Clouds, Rain and Wind that had been his unexpected and devoted allies. 


	7. Moonlight

Fox Mulder was about to leave his porch and get into his car. Scully had indeed unexpectedly summoned him, asking him to rejoin her at the FBI headquarters. 

Yet, he was conflicted. He stopped his movement, standing still on the porch. 

The sky was cloudless except for some cirrus above the horizon, the weather warmer than expected this time of the year, and the scenery was as gorgeous as ever under the orangish light. It was the glorious hour of the sunset and he wouldn’t want to decline the promising spectacle showing off for his sight. 

However, Scully had texted him a mysterious message not so long ago. She wanted him at the office, but gave no explanation. They weren’t currently working on a demanding case, just going through paperworks for a few days. There wasn’t either a sense of urgency in her call, nor a timing to follow. It seems he could rejoin her in nine minutes or an hour and a half and both options would suit her. 

So, he could stay on the porch as long as the sun was setting, lingering in that state of peaceful contemplation and expectation his mature self had recently learned to dive into so earnestly. Then, get into the car and drive to the FBI, his heart and mind full of serene desire. Or, he could let his still boyish eager heart lead the pace, and hasten him toward Scully, his whole expecting body craving her mere presence. 

He had to admit, both options would suit him.

*****

Arriving in front of their closed office door in the basement, Mulder played his usual knuckled song on the wood before entering --an ever gentle way to not startle Scully.

“Hi again,” Scully said as he was stepping inside. 

Mulder realized that they hadn’t been separated for as long as he had felt. Only a couple of hours since the end of their daywork. Or three? No need to count, that was always too many, on these days. 

“So, wassup Scully?” Mulder replied, observing Scully seated at the desk, glasses on her nose and sheets of paper scattered in front of her.

“Oh, nothing special. I’ve stumbled on an interesting article published in that medical journal, and... I didn’t see the time passing,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Happy for you.” 

“Thanks.”

So that was it, thought Mulder. Scully would keep him guessing. He was ready to play her little game. A billion times if she wanted to.

He sat on the chair opposite her, and waited.

“Just a couple of minutes. I’m finishing writing notes,” she finally added. And, after a few beats, “if you don’t mind, of course… I wouldn’t want to bother you, now you’re here.”

“Never, when you’re wearing those glasses, Scully.”

“Mmm, I see,” she replied, without raising her sight from her notebook. 

After a while --once again, no measure of time needed-- Scully raised her head, took off her glasses, gathered her work and stretched her upper body. 

“I’m done, Mulder. Now, I’m all yours,” she claimed, staring straight in his eyes.

“Scully?” Mulder said, a grin on his face and sparkles in his eyes.

Scully stood up and grabbed her bag and coat. Then, she moved close to Mulder and took his hand, lifting him up and leading him to the door.

“Come with me, Mulder.”

They got into the elevator and, surprising Mulder, Scully pressed an upper button. 

*****

As the elevator lifted up, carrying them from the basement to one of the highest levels of the FBI headquarters, Mulder’s head was spinning. Spinning through time. Old memories bubbling like lava rising from underground layers. 

Long ago, he had spent hours and nights up the building. Disheveled, unshaven, stinking, hungry, tired, insomniac, restless, desperate, he had traveled back and forth with the elevator. Endlessly switching from the basement office to the FBI rooftop terrace, ad infinitum searching for Scully into the X-files and into the sky, relentlessly seeking the slightest clue from obscure old cases and seeking strength and hope from the stars above him.

Had been the elevator a star-trekky transporter, he would have transferred his useless body from the basement to the top of the Skyland Mountain. Up there, he would have screamed the name of Scully so loudly that all the fucking aliens would have heard him; he would have vehemently cursed the name of Duane Barry, making the fucking remnants of his soul jump with remorse. 

Instead, he had stepped on the deserted terrace of the FBI building in the middle of the night, barely noticing the remnants of unknown fellow agents who had spent convivial times during the daylight. Surely, it was better for Mulder not to see these traces, as it would have made him long even more painfully for his abducted partner. 

Very often he had been disappointed up the terrace. What was he thinking? Seeing the truth through the heavens? Waiting for the starlight to send him signs? Washington D.C. was a big town, the light pollution at its maximum. No starry sky to be seen. Just the infinite lights of a city that was never completely shut down. Though, it had often felt better to be standing there than laying on his couch, better to be higher, closer to the unseen stars, even if the FBI building height was ridiculous against the Skyland Mountain peak. 

He would stand, raising his head, staring above him while squeezing Scully’s cross hanging around his neck, and that would be his humble act of faith. 

*****

For Mulder was lost in his painful reverie, Scully dragged him out of the elevator, before the door would close. 

Knowing where Mulder’s thoughts could have gone, Scully gently brushed his left cheek with the tip of a few fingers, then passed her right arm under his left one.

“Come on, Mulder,” she said, moving forward along the corridor, arm in arm.

And that was all it took to make the next flow of lava fall down the inner layers of Mulder’s memory. The next bubble of past suffering blew up and disappeared, without having time to hit his heart. Right now, he didn’t need to relive the awful weeks of Scully’s cancer. No need to feel once again the hopelessness, the uselessness, the desperateness that had invaded him when trying to face Scully’s imminent death on the rooftop terrace of the FBI building.

Arriving at the door of the terrace, Scully put the flat of her left hand on her lower belly. An old reflex her body hadn’t lost from the time she went up the terrace, not completely alone but with a miracle child in her womb, when she was looking there for comfort and answers about Mulder’s abduction. She didn’t let these thoughts resurface. 

*****

The fresher air on the roof immediately made them look for their old shared place. The scenery had changed since then, the former furniture all gone and replaced with new ones, but they were relieved to immediately recognize the spot --and that there was nobody else to be seen. 

“Help me bringing this table,” Mulder told Scully, pointing out a close plastic table.

They carried the light item to what had been their place for a short period of their lifetime, after Scully’s illness and before Mulder’s abduction. A location in a corner of the terrace that became theirs for a while, their hangout at the FBI when they became much closer partners and friends, then outrageously flirty, and finally intimate lovers. When, amid hard work and darkness, they needed to breathe fresh air the basement couldn’t give them, to feel the weight of the sky upon them, and finally to trespass the limit of decency in a workplace. 

That little spot they had shared had made them feel alive and fulfilled. 

Mulder and Scully sat side by side on the table, and stared at the spread out city.

“I’m glad you invited me, Scully,” Mulder said after a little moment of silence.

“I’m afraid it’s not exactly what I thought it would be,” Scully replied.

“How come? What did you expect?”

Scully glanced at her watch and shrugged. 

“Surely we have to wait…” Scully finally answered.

“I can wait by your side as long as needed,” Mulder said, having no clue about Scully’s meaning, and still glad there could be more to enjoy.

Scully took Mulder’s hand in hers, and both stayed quiet, squeezing and playing with each other’s fingers.

Then --no measure of time needed-- a faint glow fell upon them, wrapping and enlightening their face and body.

Mulder turned aside and raised his head.

“Wow, the moon is rising! Is that a full moon, tonight?” Mulder asked.

“Not quite, but sufficiently close to. And the weather is perfect, tonight,” Scully stated.

Mulder turned back his head toward Scully’s face. The moonlight was beautifying her wide smile, sending sparks in her eyes and making her hair slightly shine. 

“I like that, Scully. Thanks.”

Long ago, when they were hanging out on that rooftop, they had resigned themselves to the fact they wouldn’t stargaze and observe a starry night as they would have wanted to. However, once, they had discovered that the moon could be there for them, that it was the only celestial object powerful enough to face the too many lights of the foolish humans.

Then, under occasional soft moonlights, they had shared a lot of philosophical thoughts, they had shared a lot of playful banters, and finally they had shared a lot of intimate gestures. 

Under the shared dim moonlight, they always had felt better.

Right now, on the terrace of the FBI building, Mulder and Scully were indeed feeling better, sharing the white moonlight brightening their happiness to be side by side.

Certainly, the moon was already smiling to them, foreseeing the well-known gestures it had witnessed a long time ago. 

Foreseeing the faces getting closer, the lips colliding and undulating, then the hands sneaking and stroking under the clothes, the moon fiercely and steadily rose up in the night, proudly reflecting the photons from the sun hitting its almost plain surface toward these two familiar human beings. 

Not sure Mulder and Scully were realizing the effort of the moon, busy they were to simply enjoy their shared gestures, beautified by the moonlight. 


End file.
